Cracked
by saxgirl42
Summary: And everyone always thought the baseball field was the one place where Yamamoto Takeshi was invincible...


**_Author's Note: I keep meaning to write other things, but these two seem to be hijacking all of my plot bunnies lately. -headdesk-_**

_**Anyway, there isn't much of a point to this, other than the fact that I love baseball and wanted to write a general-8059 fic using it. So please just read and enjoy, and remember that I love any feedback you can give me!**_

_**Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! belongs to Amano Akira, not me. **_

- - - - -

**Cracked**

_CRACK._

The solid sound of bat hitting ball echoed across the field, followed by cheers and applause and shouts of encouragement from watching friends and families.

Gokudera Hayato ignored it. He lit a cigarette, put out the match with a careless flick of his wrist, and inhaled deeply. He leaned against the metal beam supporting the stands, peering out at the baseball field while still managing to appear – for all intents and purposes – completely uninterested.

He was not at the game to watch baseball. He wasn't even there to watch the idiot who had apparently just hit a home run _and_ earned his fifth RBI of the game.

No, he was here only to keep an eye on the Tenth, who was currently seated in the bleachers beside Kyoko. (Well, he wasn't "seated" so much as on his feet cheering his head off for the baseball idiot.) Reborn was near him, too, as well as Ryohei, Haru, and the kids, which was why Gokudera felt it was relatively safe to nip out for a smoke.

Gokudera sighed and watched the wind take the smoke from his lips. The applause for Yamamoto's homerun didn't die down for two whole minutes (Gokudera only counted because the noise was annoying him), but after that the inning didn't last long and the teams switched out.

Gokudera watched Yamamoto throw a few practice pitches before taking another drag on his cigarette. The idiot had good form, he'd give him that. And he was taking out the opposing team almost single-handedly. Gokudera had half a mind to storm the opposition's dugout and reprimand them all for letting an idiot kick their asses.

The first batter approached the plate. He was a hulking ape of a kid, as tall as Yamamoto and almost three times as broad. The bat was dwarfed in his hands and the grin he sported as he took a couple practice swings made him look quite intimidating. Gokudera glanced at Yamamoto and was satisfied to see no nerves on the idiot's face: there was only determination. Baseball was his forte, after all. This was one enemy he didn't have to fear.

Gokudera turned slightly so that he didn't have to strain his neck to watch the game. He still wasn't interested, of course. He was only watching Yamamoto in order to gauge the idiot's strength. That could be evaluated through baseball, right?

The ape batter stepped up to the plate and readied himself, his beady eyes narrowed in concentration. Yamamoto stared him down for a moment, bent over slightly and twirling the ball dexterously behind his back. He straightened and shifted the ball into his glove, then began his wind up, paused for a split-second, and let the ball fly.

"STRIKE!"

The crowd cheered again, and even Gokudera couldn't help but smile around his cigarette.

Yamamoto, however, let no semblance of relief or humor grace his features. He caught the ball easily when the catcher threw it back and took up his spot on the mound, twirling the ball in his long fingers again. Gokudera knew he wouldn't be satisfied until the ape was back on the bench.

The next strike came with the same effortless execution, and the ape kid looked ready to blow. His face was red and puffy with frustration, and his white-knuckled grip on the bat showed obvious tension. Gokudera smirked; this looked like an easy out.

Yamamoto was bent again, ball spinning behind his back, dark eyes fixed on the catcher. He nodded minutely at whatever signal he had been given, then straightened and took a deep breath.

The entire field was silent. (Gokudera was irritated to find that even he was holding his breath.)

And then Yamamoto began his wind up, paused for that split-second, and sent the ball hurling toward home plate.

The ape kid swung.

_CRACK._

_CRACK._

The ball hit Yamamoto with such force that he was thrown back and ended up sprawled just behind the mound.

He didn't move.

The ape kid dropped his bat, and someone screamed.

"_YAMAMOTO!_"

- - - - -

He awoke in a brightly lit room, obviously a hospital due to the sterile whiteness of all the walls. His head felt heavy and leaden, something that was explained when he lifted a hand to his forehead and felt a thick layer of bandages.

"So you're up."

Yamamoto looked to his right, squinting against the red-tinted sunlight streaming in through the window. A silhouetted figure was just closing a book and rising from the windowsill, coming toward him.

"Gokudera…" Yamamoto slurred, still feeling rather groggy. "What happened?"

"You took a line drive to the head," Gokudera said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Gave everyone kind of a scare when you didn't get up right away." From the way he said it, Yamamoto could tell that Gokudera was – for once – including himself in "everyone." Yamamoto tried to smile for him but it came out as a pained grimace.

"Do you… do you know what the final score was?"

"Namimori won, but just barely."

"Oh… that's good." Yamamoto was still finding it difficult to form words properly. His head was starting to ache…

"The Tenth came in while you were unconscious," Gokudera said, staring at a point on the opposite wall.

"Yeah?"

"So did your dad and the rest of the team. They weren't too happy with that batter after what happened."

"It wasn't his fault," Yamamoto murmured, fighting the urge to close his eyes again. Gokudera snorted.

"You're too nice for your own good."

Yamamoto chuckled, and the two sat in comfortable silence for a time.

"How long have you been here?" Yamamoto asked. Gokudera shrugged.

"A few hours."

"… How long have I been out?"

"About that long."

Yamamoto watched the Italian carefully.

"You sat with me the whole time?" he asked.

"Well, somebody had to make sure you weren't brain dead," Gokudera snapped, looking uncomfortable. Yamamoto just smiled, and Gokudera glared fiercely. "Don't look so smug, you idiot. If you weren't dumb enough to get hit by a fucking baseball, then _neither_ of us would have to be here right now."

"Look at you," Yamamoto chuckled. "You care!"

"I do not," Gokudera spat.

"You do too. You sat with me to make sure I was all right."

"It's my obligation as the Tenth's right-hand man to make sure his dumb Rain Guardian hasn't become demented because of a cracked skull."

"I cracked my skull?"

"Did I not tell you that?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, you cracked your skull."

"Huh. That's a new one."

They drifted into silence. Gokudera played with the lighter in his pocket and Yamamoto stared out the window over the Storm Guardian's shoulder. The light was fading, staining the sky a dark red.

"… Does it hurt?" Gokudera asked eventually.

"Nah. My head just feels really heavy," Yamamoto said with a frown. "And I'm starting to get a little nauseous."

"The nurse said that's to be expected."

"I guess that's okay, then."

The comfortable silence came again, and by now Yamamoto was struggling just to keep his eyes open. Gokudera must have noticed; his brow furrowed with barely-concealed anxiety.

"You should get some more sleep," he said, starting to turn away. "I'll pass on the news that you woke up. I'm sure your dad will be glad to hear it."

"Wait," Yamamoto said, reaching out and grasping Gokudera's wrist.

"What?"

"… You'll stay?"

Gokudera wavered for only a moment before nodding. Yamamoto let go of his wrist with a smile and finally allowed his eyes to close, falling asleep almost instantly.

Gokudera went back to the windowsill and flipped open his phone. He paused, thumb poised over the send button. Even though he knew Yamamoto Senior would want to know his son had woken up, the idiot needed sleep. If news spread that he had regained consciousness, his room would be swarmed with friends and well-wishers and he'd never get the rest he needed.

After a moment of deliberation, Gokudera closed the phone and slid it into his pocket. He would call Yamamoto's father in an hour. Meanwhile, he would resume his vigil from the windowsill and lose himself in his book, and never quite admit how much lighter he felt as the sun finally set and the soft sound of Yamamoto's breathing filled the hospital room.

- - - - -

**_A/N: Comments are much appreciated! Thanks for reading! ;D_**


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